


Note Taking

by blom_erzi



Category: APH - Fandom, Axis Powers Hetalia, Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 13:39:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7270501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blom_erzi/pseuds/blom_erzi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ameripan one shot, a small bit of gore.</p><p>Hetalia and the characters respectively belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Note Taking

**Author's Note:**

> Ahaha, this is actually the first time I've ever written something from first person.

I can't believe I did it.

Ten years ago, I had a dog.

He was the cutest dog in the whole, wide world, and I loved him more than anything.

Or so it seemed.

I really _did_ love him more than anything.

I got him for my ninth birthday, which meant he was brand new! I had no other pet before, never. I had never been allowed. But since I was nine now, my parents thought I was mature enough to look after him.

Or so it seemed.

It was a reward, after all. Surviving nine years, earning the best grades in the class... I had the highest scores above about of all of my classmates, including all my friends. I was a very smart kid, very bright indeed. But it didn't seem to serve me in the time I needed it most. I was witty, smart, athletic, friendly, everything a parent wishes and hopes for in a child. After all, my parents being business people, it had always served them well. They raised only the best child, and I was as proud of them as they were me.

I wished for nothing more than to please them; so I did everything they wished, obeyed their every whim, and took what everyone else had to say with a grain of salt, since such quizzical and meaningless things such as insults would not help me along the way. I was a star child, and didn't need anyone else holding me down.

But, my parents worked excessively to give me the best. All they did was work and work and work, but it didn't bother me, because at age nine, I was already doing the same with overachieving and whatnot. I also knew that had to work hard to get me what _I_ wanted.

It was another day, one of those days they worked late. I was quietly doing my schoolwork with that dog distracting me occasionally, causing me to put down my pencil and and scratch his ears as he wished. I looked out of that round window in our living room, staring at my neighbor's house. It was so nice, and there were so many plants growing on the outside, and more on the inside. It was huge, so it looked like it would make a cool place to play war... But my parents would never tolerate that. I knew that. I also knew they would not tolerate plants growing around, as to not mess up the overall prestige of the houses appearance that they had worked so hard to achieve.

As the dog crawled onto my lap again, I put down my pencil with a laugh. This wasn't due for another two days, so I could put it off, right? It was fun to act like the other kids my age, too!

The dog jumped in fear and I jumped about a mile at the sound of that old, monotone phone ringing from the kitchen. I remember running over to the kitchen, tripping over my large feet.

"Hello?" I said, a little nervous. I did not know who was at the other end, and I was technically not allowed to answer the phone by myself. But my mother didn't seem to care.

"Hello, is that you, Kiku? I'm so sorry, but, I have to work late again tonight! We won't be home until maybe midnight, so you'll have to make your own dinner. I'm sorry, son," She said, a remorseful tone coming from the other side. However, the word 'disappointment' or 'frustration' was not apart of my extensive vocabulary. As colorful or even as cheeky as my sentences could get, I could not find it in my heart or my words to be upset at my hard working mother. I would go as far as to say anger wasn't apart of it either, or desperation. "Yes, mom!" I replied brightly. I was excited- I was usually never left alone so late. How many hours over my limit would I watch cartoons?

"Remember Kiku- don't stay up waiting for us! And what do you do if someone knocks on the door?" My mother's expectant, playful tone made me smile. "Don't answer the door or let them know I'm here! Also, don't answer the phone, not past seven!" I recited, my chipper little voice making my mother smile. "...Very good, Kiku. Now, mama has to go now, I'll see you tomorrow! I love you!" She said briskly, the sound of rustling papers shuffling on the opposite end.

"I love you, too! Work hard!" And without waiting for my answer, I hung up the phone, and ran back to the living room to play.

But as I was running, I glanced out of the window to see it again...I saw my neighbor's house again... the one with the flowers. He was very good friends with my parents, having gone to college with them. Usually I would have sat there, excited to go to college, but this time, all I saw was the big playing space in his backyard. And for the first time, I considered breaking the rules.

Opening the front door, I let my dog run out in front of me. He trampled along, yipping with joy at finally being let out. I giggled and felt my heart flutter. I had never thought about doing it- breaking the rules I had always so obediently obeyed, without question. But here I was, playing outside with my dog, in my front lawn without a parent. I was having so much fun I didn't notice my mother hadn't tried to call me again, just like she usually does.

After a while of frolicking, the actual action that I was doing just hit me. I looked over at my dog who had stopped playing after noticing my abrupt stop. "Do... Do you think I'm doing the wrong thing? I... I always do what they say, so it's okay _sometimes_ , right?" I asked him worriedly. He sat next to me, cocking his head in confusion. I remember sighing as I continued, rubbing his head with my dirtied hand. "It's just... it's fun, and other kids do it. But when I remember I received you for being a good boy, it makes me feel bad..." I sighed, laying on the grass. But my dog did not seem to think badly of me; he promptly crawled on my stomach and licked my soft face. I smiled and grabbed him, lifting him in the air and sitting in a cross legged position.

"I knew you wouldn't think badly of me... You really are my best friend!"

I remember laughing as I threw him into the air and caught him again, as one would do with a baby or a small child. I picked him up as I got up with a tired sigh. "I... I guess I'll confess to mom and dad when they return. But for now, let's go inside..." I opened the door, but shut it as I felt someone grab onto my knobby elbow. I didn't turn around, but felt myself shake as he tightened his careful grip.

Stupid me! This is what you get for breaking the rules!

"Hey, won't you let me in too?" I turned to face him, and winced at the smile he was giving me. It was a word I had not yet adopted, but had come to know very well; insidious.

"It's okay, I work with your mom and dad," He went on, not waiting for my reply. Though I was a smart child, I had no idea what to do or say. I had learned a lot, but nothing like this.

"I-I don't believe you... I'm not allowed to l-l-let strangers in... Go away! You're scaring me...!" I said, starting with power, then ending my sentence with a dead, hushed tone. I had always imagined a scene, quite like this one. It was of robbers and faceless villains, a grownup me, and saving a helpless woman. But this was not a storybook, and at that moment, I wished _I_ was the damsel in distress, wishing someone would come and rescue me. I heard the man sigh just then, as if he had to deal with unruly kids everyday.

"Look, I know your parents. I know you're not allowed out... You wouldn't want me telling them, would you?"

I was truly caught in quite the conflict here. I didn't know what to say. My bright mind could not come up with a clever rebuttal that would make my teacher or my parents laugh. No, I felt just like a helpless, stupid little kid, just like everyone else. I was not special.

My eyes pricked with tears, as there didn't even seem to be anyone around. Was everyone at work now? I remember cursing our parents for being rich and getting a big house in a nice, barren neighborhood. "I know your parents have valuables and money. They wouldn't trust a bank... Look here. I'll give you ten minutes to get them for me, or else... You wouldn't want anything to happen to this thing, would you?" I gasped and turned around as I heard my dog squeak in either pain or fright, I was really too terrified to know.

I really did love him more than anything in the world.

Words raced through my mind, especially one in particular. I over analyzed the word in my head, distracting myself.  
Desperation: A state of despair, typically one that results in rash or extreme behavior.  
Noun  
Possible synonyms: Despair, distress, hopelessness.  
Example: Honda Kiku.

I raced through the house trying to find something, anything to give him. I really had no idea where they hid their belongings- smart and aware as I was, I was a child; money and valuables did not concern me.

But in a flash, I remembered the phone in my kitchen. He had made it very clear not to use the phone- but I had broken enough rules today, yes?

But I skidded to a stop. I didn't want him to kill me! I couldn't! I still had to finish school, become successful. I picked up the phone with clammy hands, shakily dialing 110 as words spun around in my brain.

_"And Kiku, no answering the phone or calling anyone after seven, remember?"_

I glanced at the clock and wanted to cry as I read 8:36. I was breaking too many rules today...!

_"If you use that phone, your dog's head pops off."_

I whimpered and started to finally cry as I realized my dog could die if I was found out. It had been seven minutes, three to ten, I needed to come up with something, now! I was only nine, I should be playing, not focusing on surviving.

"He-Hello? Miss? Th-There's a stranger in my house, trying to take my parents belongings, and I...I..."

I stopped talking as I saw him storming over to where I was standing. I shook where I stood, and let the phone clatter to the ground, it's long chord falling around my feet.

He threw my dog to the ground in anger, that's all I can say, all I care to remember. I yelled as I heard him whimpering with pain, as he was not fast enough to escape the man's fury. With my mind in a haze, I ignored his voice and focused on the first death around me.

"Look, kid, I don't like killing animals, or kids, but you made me do it. Yo-"

He chuckled as I ran around the corner and fumbled with the knife drawer. Shaken with fear and the feeling of knowing I would die, I held the knife in my sweaty hand as I shook in place. My breathing was so unstable, and I felt as if my head would burst with the excessive oxygen.

"Kid, you're not going to, trust me. You ca-"

With as much speed as I could muster, I ran in front of him. I buried the knife deep within his stomach with as much strength as I had. He looked at me, true shock in his dulled eyes. I remember reading somewhere that you could not _take out_ the weapon, or else the wound would open, and eventually bleed out. And so, I violently removed the tool, trying to buy some time. Frantically, I ran across the room, over to the light switch as he stumbled towards me. Hoping at least someone in the neighborhood was home, I continuously flicked the light switch on and off, pleading desperately in a blind panic someone could see. I hoped that someone would run over, or hoped wildly that the people on 110 were still somehow listening. Through the violent assault of my eyes of the switch between light and dark, I could see him inching towards me, his face pulled into a snarl. Still, I don't know why I went for the knife instead of the phone... This panicked flickering went on for about forty seconds, before he got to me. I felt him grab the arm flickering the lights and twist in in the opposite direction, and felt forced out, hot tears spill over as I heard and felt a sickening crack. But at the sight of my mangled best friend, I knew it couldn't be over. I used what strength I had left to lodge my knife into his slippery insides, not even reacting as I felt my hands become slick with blood.

And everything hit me; This man, apparently friends with my parents, tried to rob us, killed my mother, _tried_ to kill me, and killed my best friend... all in a few hours. And all of the sudden, at that instant, I no longer felt proud of myself; I felt, for the first time, shame. My mother died because of this man, and I was out breaking the rules she had so meticulously enforced, to keep me safe... And here I was, about to die for not listening.

I didn't want to do it, really. But he made me.

And the only thought that kept me going was that one sentence, frantically bouncing around in my exploding mind.

_I am going to die!_

_I am going to die!_

_I am going to die!_

_I am going to die!_

_I am going to die!_

Long story short, by the time I had been found, the man was already a mangled corpse. No one had known how I had did it- not even me. The only thing that comes to mind when I think of those moments are sitting on his stomach, stabbing a long dead man. But I was 'saved', as someone had finally broken through the door. I had technically already saved myself, but this mad really _saved_ me, if you know what I mean.

They must've been knocking and yelling for minutes, but I was so invested in my work that I did not take notice.

But this 'saviour' of mine had finally succeeded. I did not look away, as I couldn't seem to tear my eyes away, and though I didn't see him, I knew exactly who is was from his voice. My mother's best friend, the one she had been schoolmates with. It seemed he did not look down as he opened the door.

"Kikuko! Are you alright?! Who...who's.... here...." His eyes must have popped out of his head with shock. He must've gasped, probably vomited of the sight of a crazed child on top of a disfigured man. He must've yelled, at least, I think that's what I heard, yet it very well could've been my own. But I remember him grabbing me around my chubbier waste with powerful hands, trying to tear me away as fast as he could without hurting me.

"K-Kiku, s-stop... He's already dead...! Let go!" He said, trying to lift up my dead weight. It was as if I was a toddler; refusing to let go and gluing myself to where I sat. The man did not look like the same man anymore, or... Even remotely like a person. I still wonder how my gentle neighbor was able to tear me away, keep his head, and properly inform and get the police. He had to drag me away from my house, from my dog, from my knife. How he managed to deal with nine year old me, kicking and screaming, was beyond me.

I really _did_ love that dog more than anything.

And it _still_ died.

And here I was, age nineteen, sitting at the table with that same man, presenting me with a new dog. "See? Isn't he cute? It's like the one you had as a kid...!" He said, presenting him to me with a smile. He knew it was a touchy subject for me, but I knew he tried too hard. And I knew what it was making up for, too... For years, I had refused to move from my home here in China. We had been living in the house right next to mine for ten years, as I had refused to leave, but... We both knew that wasn't healthy at all. I was tying myself to the thing that tore me apart everyday... the thing that had caused me to constantly switch between public school and home school. I was no longer smart, or bright. Definitely not enough to go to a private school like I once did.

And that's the way I've been for ten years. Over analyzing not only words, but people, situations, feelings, the very ground I stood on.

It's been ten years since I moved in with him. I know, I've been difficult over the years. I'm sure I'm the reason for his white streak at age 46. I knew he tries his best with me, and loves me. I love him too. Or, I tried to. The first few years were very hard- he spent sleepless nights on end trying to make me sleep. I was grateful, I really was. But I didn't feel the same love I once did, and I hate myself for it. Over the years, I had lost my warmth, my brightness, my sharp mind, and my love. Over the years, it had gone quite... Frigid. Everyday, it felt as though I was distancing myself from him. The years have gotten so hard, and I had not let anyone get close to me, and in my haste, I had pushed Yao away. Or, Dad, whatever he expected me to call him.

I am grateful to my adoptive father. I really am. I was so grateful that he had taken me into his care without a second glance, without a second thought, without protest. He was a very wealthy man with a house too large for himself, and decided it was time to take me in. I am grateful, really. But, there is one thing.

It's as if I've been aging, growing, developing backwards. It should've been hard the first few years; it should've been me hating him, reluctant to call him "Dad". My love should've grown over the years, I should be trying harder now to move past this. But... I'm not. I've been acting more like a child than a legal adult. But... I can't keep up with him. Or my life. Sometimes I wished I could join my dog; yes, my mother too, but as I've told you, I've been aging backwards. I've spent most of my life without her than with her, and now... I don't feel any real love towards her. It died along with everything else. It died right along with her, with my dog, and with the sweet innocence I did not realize I had. And I could get none of those treasured things back. Never.

I know what you probably expect; me to love Yao with my everything, to see him as a real dad, because of the problem with mine. Yes, he's still alive. But, he's washed his hands of me. Which is probably the reason I can't love Wang Yao as a father. His relationship with me had derived me of any others I had, terminating all the good in my life, if there even was any. He gives life and limb to me, but I still can't find it in my heart, to love him back, to the same extent.

And him deciding to move us to Japan did not help. Yes, I understood what he was doing was right, and I need to leave this place. But the thing is... I'm still not ready. And there is still a problem.

"D-Dad..." Yao perked up as he heard his title being called aloud.

"Yes? What is it, son?"

I swallowed thickly, trying my hardest not to roll my eyes. As if it weren't obvious enough as it was...

"Dad. I still don't quite know Japanese... Honestly... I... I don't know if I'm ready for this or not."

His tentative gaze softened at the sight of my troubled appearance. I know he wanted to move me to Japan, for something about 'keeping in touch with my roots', but I don't even know how to speak Japanese, not very well. And China was all I knew... I had never been to Japan, and my parents did not speak to me in Japanese. The only time I've heard it was when they did not want me to hear what they were talking about. I wasn't ready... Goddammit, if he wanted me to "keep in touch with my roots", he should've done it a lot earlier, with preparation! And there, the full effect just so happened to hit me; I _really_ wasn't ready! I don't know their customs, their language, nothing. And Yao did not help to keep me in touch with that. He was Chinese, after all.

I didn't need or want to move. In my opinion, I didn't need to keep in touch with my roots. China has all of my roots, if I have any. I was born and raised here, and speak the language, fluently, might I add. As far as I was concerned, I considered myself Chinese, even if my parents were not. Yao was, and well... I live here, and he's raised me the majority of my life. I was not ready to move after ten years.

It had been ten years.

Ten years since I have spent everyday in regret and feeling my own sorrow pool around me, drowning me and snuffing out the good things in my life, if I even really have any. Am I really ready to take on another sixty, seventy years away from "home"? Reluctantly, I was about to find out.

The first thing I noticed about Japan was, well... The people. Their behaviour was a lot different than what I was used to. But then again, I had lived a very sheltered life back in China, so what people was I comparing the public to? Yao? That would be unreasonable, since you couldn't find another person like him, a positive or negative thing, I do not know. But I also couldn't help but notice that even if they still ate a lot, it wasn't very much to the amount back home, it was kind of funny.

But above all, I had a difficult time with everything. Not only with the language, or with finally dragging myself to college, but just simply adjusting. Or rather, accepting. I had a hard time believing I was supposed to be Japanese. I couldn't get the accent right, or the _alphabets_ , or even _try_ to leave behind and move past China. I would say I did not get along well with the students, but truth be told, I did not get along well with anyone. Bouncing in and out of homeschooling and public school can really do that to a person, I guess. Even if I hated having to be dragged to school and getting the inevitable "This is Honda Kiku, be nice to him!" speech, I still wish I made more of an effort, and I wished I hadn't been homeschooled at all, because now, I had little to no preparation for college. So far, I wanted to go back to China more than anything. I was sick of Japan after only three weeks. But, the only thing I could do was be thankful it was not America I had been transferred to.

Our daily lifestyle had drastically changed- we had little time for anything now! I spent all of my time studying, being locked away in my room (was that last part really any different?), and spent day in, day out doing work. All in all, it was terribly depressing and dry, I had no idea why he had been crazy enough to change our, _my_ life. Was this all truthfully for his benefit? He always said it would be for the best, but what now, what now?! It seemed like a terrible mistake to me now... If it was possible, it was even drearier than the solemn life I had been forced to follow many years ago as a small child.

Yao would always tell me, "It has to get worse in order for it to get better, you have to try through the bad times, even if you struggle, you are still working and looking up." He would tell me that with a forced awake voice at ungodly hours of the morning, the nights when I couldn't, when I refused to sleep. He would rake his gentle, stiffened fingers from signing papers all day through my dried, dead hair, trying his best to rid my eyes of the dampness that never failed to be there. He'd hum something to me, smile at me with those deadbeat bags under his eyes, his smile wrinkling around the corners.

His tendency to smile and those ugly smile lines were most likely in order to make me feel at home, not necessarily meaning he was happy.

Strain: Force (a part of one's body or oneself) to make a strenuous or unusually great effort.  
Adjective  
Possible synonyms: Pressure, tension.  
Example: Wang Yao.

I know he tried very hard to make me happy, but was it really for me? Or was it just for my mother, his best friend? I knew he probably mourned her death more than I have over the course of these exhausting ten years. So was any of this really for me? Or was is really just for my mother...? The thought itself almost made me want to cry. Was I really just an object for comfort, was I just my mother? Was simply repaying an old debt..? These things caused me to barricade in my room, leaving my schoolwork strewn all over the table. Tears streaking my face, I fell into a much needed sleep.

_"Get the kid over here!"_

_I winced as I heard someone shout, still holding the blanket snugly around me. I hadn't stopped shaking in hours; All I knew was that mother was murdered, I was a murderer, and my neighbor had saved me._

_"He can't speak right now, are you blind? Deaf, maybe? Give him space... He doesn't need to be answering these questions right now!" Yao said, nearly shouting. He fiercely jerked his head in the direction of Kiku as he spoke. The officer rolled his eyes, nudging the other policeman. "Look, I'm sorry, I really am. But it's been two hours, the kid needs to speak up... No one knows what happened." He said, a bored finality in his voice that made Yao fume even further. Yes, Yao was scared and very concerned for Kiku, but he could not manage to keep his head any longer after being angered in such a way._

_"You look! I've told you what happened... There was an unfamiliar car parked outside of the house, it could not be Kikuko's or her husband's... The lights were flicking on and off repeatedly. I rushed to the door and heard... Yelling. It seemed to be a man, mixed.... Mixed with K-Kiku's. I broke the door open and..." He looked very troubled as he spoke in a hushed tone. He did not know whether he didn't want Kiku to hear or he himself didn't want to hear it. "... Kiku, the boy, he was... Sitting on the man's waist, stabbing him. I-I don't know how he managed to do it, but.." Yao trailed off and looked in Kiku's direction, who sat shivering in his corner almost like a punished child. The officer looked skeptical of Yao's account, but could not ignore the blood covering Kiku, either. He walked over to Kiku, a clipboard in hand._

_"Don't you dare badger him now!"_

I awoke with an electric jolt and a foul taste in my mouth, surprised to see Yao in my room, his hands on my shoulders. I looked behind him to see one, dimly lit lamp on and my papers reorganized. I scrambled to sit up hastily to take in my surroundings and Yao's appearance. It seemed to be very dark, and late at night. Yao seemed to just get home and check on me, still being in a suit, although his hair was hanging freely. He looked me up and down with a worried look written all over his face, and he did not seem to want to take his hands from me.

"Were you having a bad dream?"

I knew even as he asked the question, he knew the answer. But he seemed to want that clarification we both knew he didn't need, just desiring the conversation he so desperately wanted to have with me, seeing as I started speaking less these days. I seemed to be reverting back to being a ten year old.

"I-I d-did..." Even though this dream had played countless times in my head, I was still at a loss for words every time; I was always in tears when I woke up. He reached up and gently swept his hand threw my hair, and I felt the tears I knew had to come surface. I reached for his hand and buried my head into his shoulder to cry, probably ruining his suit. He rubbed my back in an attempt to soothe me, to which it did not do, which was odd; it always worked. But everything was too much; and I found myself spilling everything to the man I thought I didn't care about.

"I-I had the d-dream.. The o-one, you know?" I knew Yao couldn't know what I was talking about, I knew I was being stuffy and unclear, but he nodded nonetheless. I snaked my arms around his sides. "I-I hate it here..." I spat venomously.

"Just... I-It's so hard l-l-living here... I-I just want to go home... I hate it here. The alphabet is dumb, the people are irritating, a-and i-it's not home... I can't get people to like me, and..." I trailed off, spouting out incomprehensible nonsense.

I didn't even know what I was trying to say anymore. "Hey.." Yao took my chin and tilted it up to him, one thing I never liked. He wiped away the tears from my reddened, tearstained face. "It has to get worse in order for it to get better... You have to try through the bad times, even if you struggle, you are still working and looking up..." He smiled with those unattractive smile lines again, and he said it with the same enthusiasm as the first time he said it. It seemed he never got tired of repeating it for me, and that not only flattered me, but bothered me. When was his breaking point? Did he even have one?

"Kiku," He said, alerting me. It was said in such an exhausted voice, I was scared we had sat for hours, just like the old days. "... I know you are having a rough time right now, so you can take tomorrow off of school, okay? Please try to sleep now, it's very late, I don't want you to ruin your sleeping schedule, or your health," He said matter of factly. Even through the haze of fatigue he was in from lack of sleep, he still managed to be the same kind of father. As we bade each other goodnight, he turned off my little lamp, making the clock in my room illuminate in the dark, I read 5:04 AM with quite a shock.

I really hadn't grown, had I?

Pathetic: Arousing pity, especially through vulnerability or sadness.  
Adjective  
Possible synonyms: Piteous, touching, harrowing, forlorn.  
Example: Honda Kiku.

In three more weeks, I had learned how to act like everyone else. I had learned to act like I didn't have a bad dream, to act as if I was a completely normal person. I acted as if I didn't have blood of ten years ago on my hands, imbedded in my finger nails, soaking my socks. And it was hard; I had long grown used to the lifestyle of it all in China, to how to mask myself, but it was completely different from here. The school kids... Well, we were technically no longer children, even though we all seemed to act like it, especially me. But, you'd think college goers weren't like this, but they definitely proved themselves; many of them were mean spirited, or even bullies, and I had to become a different person everyday.

You'd think we were still in high school from the complete idiocy I had to put up with everyday, it was utterly ridiculous, honestly. I was known as the "Chinese kid", even if I was technically full blooded Japanese. There was another kid, he seemed to be younger, an American. The slob, the jock. Those seemed to be his title. But I know they were much more accepting and diverse in America, so sometimes, I even found myself wishing we moved there instead, despite Yao and even myself hating them sometimes.

The cooler months passed by me like the frigid gusts of wind rattling the dead branches. It had been about three months. Still no progress, still no friends. As if I really needed any. It seemed Yao was having the same sort of problem, though he was much more capable than I. He had more time off now though, so I had more time to listen to his complaints.

"Everyone here is much too mild, or far too severe; they either try too hard to socialize with me, or try too hard to avoid me. Aiya, I miss home... But it's better here," He said, fumbling with the dishes. I kind of feel remorseful sometimes, since he never asked me to do any of the housework since I was taken in. I only washed my clothes and cleaned my room, that was it.

Exhausted: Drained of one's mental or physical resources; strained.  
Adjective  
Possible synonyms: Worn-out, dead-beat, fatigued, drained.  
Example: Wang Yao.

He worked in his own home as well as out, and the work in his own home was only partially tidying up. It was mostly just me... It reminded me of the silent night Yao had taken me into his home. He gave me a bath himself, absentmindedly talking empty words of comfort to me. It was a silent night, though it was filled with talking. I was silent. My dog was silent. My mother was silent, my father ashamed and already far away; Yao was of no concern to me yet; therefore, my world really _was_ silent. There was no thank you; only an empty, fleeting nod of the head, a small acknowledgement, which was all Yao seemed to need at the time.

Day in, day out, I had no time. I had only the time for school, or laying in bed feeling sorry for myself, or maybe listening to Yao talk, but never really register what he was saying. It was a dreary life, I admit, and I wanted out. It was then I recognized the first sign of change and growth; I was willing to change my lifestyle. And that was something, wasn't it? So I tried to be a bit more open in school, tried to relax my face a bit more. It was all I could think to do.

Yes, I'll readily admit, I desperately wanted friends now, and yet, I was not yet willing to speak! I knew that was a fatal flaw. I didn't speak when I was questioned by the police, I barely speak to Yao, I don't speak when spoken to, I barely have manners anymore. Well, until today, it seemed. The slob decided to poke his head into my life, on the day I didn't really want it.

"Sooo, whatcha writing?" He asked, looking down at my paper. I was struggling to write down the lesson. The hiragana was hard to get the hang of, they were so... Curly. At first, I did not answer. I did not know if he was talking to me, and I didn't want to make the mistake of answering to the wrong thing. But as I looked up, he was staring at me expectantly, blue eyes lit with interest. I stared right back with my dulled brown ones, a little dumbfounded at his rather stupid, or rather, _obvious_ question. "Um... the same thing as you are, and everyone else... The... Lesson..." I faltered as I let my eyes pass over his paper. His writing was so neat, and it was, well... Perfect. But, he was not even Japanese. Or even Asian. Yep, purely American. He leaned closer to me, making me instinctively move back, bumping into the person behind me.

Airhead- A stupid person, a downright dunce.  
Adjective/Noun  
Meaning- air where the brain is meant to reside.  
Example: Alfred F. Jones.

"Hmmm... Your writing is so stiff, like your personality. Here, you wrote this wrong, let me help you!"

I sat there as he erased and rewrote a portion of my paper. I was not all together accepting of his help, especially not after that clever little insult, but I just kept my mouth shut. Not only did he seem to be dumb, but mindlessly kind. He was not _dumb_ , but rather people dumb. He delivered that insult without even thinking of it as one. He didn't seem to have direction, or a bit of common sense. Didn't he know we would be teased for socializing? The outsiders, the Chinese and the American? For once, I decided to voice my opinions. "Why... Why are you helping me?" I asked lamely. It was a rude question. Yao would always tell me, "Don't question the gifts you receive." And so I did. I wanted to take it back, but it was already dangling in the air, only for the American to grab at it, and use the opportunity.

"Weell, you seemed like you needed help with things, dude. And the things you need help in are things I can do, so I said, 'why not?'" He said animatedly, already looking like he could get in a three hour conversation. "Well... Thanks, I guess... Do you mind if I ask a question?" I asked, looking up at him.

"I mean, you just did, but ask away," He said openly. I winced at this rather brash 'rebuttal'. Maybe I should learn a thing or two from him. "Ok, so... Why are you here..? In Japan...? How did you learn Japanese?" I asked, prodding a bit. Maybe I was pushing it, since he looked taken aback and even a little annoyed at the question. But, I felt like a sponge that day; I wanted to know more.

"Oh. Well, I've always been interested in Japan, ya know? So I tried to learn Japanese a couple of years back, my Japanese friend taught me. He's great, we've been friends since the second grade, you know?" He said in excitement. He got sidetracked _way_ too easily _. "..._ But anyways, when I finally convinced my dad I was fluent enough, he shipped me off here, and paid for everything, too." He said, nodding as if speaking to a crowd of adoring fans, even if it was just me.

"So, why are you?"

I was shocked at the question. I didn't know he could tell I was Chinese. I didn't know if he had heard about me, or if I still could not get the hang of that distinct Japanese accent.

I suddenly became very self conscious of myself at that moment. I was very embarrassed... His Japanese accent was better than mine, it was perfect! I struggled to find the right words; I could only seem to think in Chinese right then and there. How to speak Japanese again? But he seemed to become aware of my struggling, and put his large hand on my shoulder. "Hey, I'm sorry, you don't have to talk about it. You want me to help you more instead?" He asked gently. I looked up at his round, innocent face, surprised at how quickly he changed gears. "No, it's okay, I'll tell you." I did not shy away from his hand; it seemed I had possibly made a friend already.

He seemed speechless at what I had to tell him. It could've simply been the result of how vague I was being. I had left out, you know, the whole killing part. I couldn't tell him. Not yet. I would do it when we become inseparable friends, and then he would be _forced_ to stay with me. Wait... I was planning on becoming an inseparable friend to him?

"Wait... I just realized, there's a problem!" He nearly shouted.

I jolted my body, staring at him. We were still in class after all. "You and I told each other about ourselves, but I still don't know your name!" He said, laughing to himself. I looked deep into his eyes; it would be impossible for a threat to lie there, and there didn't seem to be anything sinister about him. So for the first time in a while, a gave a genuine smile.

"I'm Honda Kiku."

My heart could've fluttered when he gave his own toothy grin. "I'm Alfred Jones, and I hope to be good friends with you!" He said, shaking my hand. I gave a small incline of the head. It was funny. Alfred Jones... What a typical name.

Good-natured: Friendly, kind, patient.  
Adjective  
Possible synonyms: Amiable, gregarious, warmhearted.  
Meaning: Friendly by nature.  
Example: Alfred F. Jones.

I went home that week happy. Alfred and I had spoken a lot in the past few days, and today, he even invited me to get coffee with him. How nice. But then I remembered; today was Yao's day off, and I didn't know if I wanted to leave him. Wh...What's this? I, Honda Kiku, actually caring about Wang Yao's feelings? Well, that was new, I must admit... Oh God, what had Japan done to me? I almost wanted to revert back into that old hermit shell of mine, that I could be quick to regress into.

As quick as I had been to accept change, I was quick to recoil at it. I knocked on the door, already knowing Yao was home. I opened the door, not taking off my bag. He came to the door to greet me from his comfy spot on the couch, pausing his show. I tried to avoid looking at his white streak; He was forty six, and looking at it just made me feel empty. But his hair was pulled into a high ponytail, so I didn't have to see it all over the place.

"Um... Dad, I'm really really sorry but," I saw his eyebrows shoot up at my genuine apology and the 'dad' part and felt my heart wrench, but continued talking. "my friend invited me out to the coffee shop down the street... So, I was wondering if I could go," I said quietly, almost as if the softer my voice, the softer the reaction would be. His eyes lit up and grew very large and round, kind of reminding me of Alfred. "What?! Kiku, I'm sorry to make a big deal out of this, but I'm so proud of you!" He said, putting his porcelain hands on the sides of my face. Another pair of hands I did not shy away from. Maybe this whole Japan thing actually _was_ for the best...?

I smiled and leaned into his hands. Damn, I was growing soft, only after three months, too. "What's their name?

"Alfred. Alfred F. Jones."

"Ooh, the American!" He seemed content with this fact, although I didn't know how he would take it. "What's he like? Is he rowdy, or annoying? Do you like him?" He said, all in under a few seconds. Well, that was a dumb question. Of course I liked him, he wouldn't be my friend if I didn't. "Yes, yes, and yes," I answered, smiling again. Geez, I haven't stopped smiling today. It was peculiar, and mildly concerning.

Yao laughed wildly. "Well, of course you can go! Is he a blond? Blue eyes? Is he rich? Oh, it doesn't matter! Tell me all about him when you get back..!" He said. His eyes seemed a little watery, and suddenly, I was concerned. But I had no time to ask, for I was ushered out of my own house for the first time in my life. Why Yao was so happy, I did not know. Perhaps, it was because I had finally found a friend. But I didn't think it meant that much to him for him to cry over it. Perhaps I was mistaken about him, or too harsh.

Exhilaration: A feeling of great enthusiasm and eagerness.  
Adjective  
Possible synonyms: Excitement, eagerness, enthusiasm, elation.  
Example: Alfred F. Jones and Honda Kiku.

"Sooo, what're your parents like?" He said, sipping on his coffee. "Um, well, my mom is dead, and my biological dad doesn't want anything to do with me. I'll tell you about that another time, don't worry," I added hastily, trying my hardest to avoid the subject. I know he wanted to know, and _believe_ me, I wanted to tell him already, as I seemed to want to tell him everything about me, but I didn't want him to be scared of me. Not yet, anyways. "Oh, well I'm sorry to hear that," He said nonchalantly. He was very casual about it, it seemed, but I know he didn't want to annoy me with pity, as many people had given me all these years. I didn't want a pity friend.

"My dad is like, super annoying, though he's not that bad, seeing as he _did_ send me here like I wanted," He said, rolling his eyes. "He's British, too. My mom is dead as well. Funny coincidence, huh?" He asked. No, it really wasn't funny at all, but it did somehow make me want to laugh. I chuckled at him and nodded.  
"I suppose."

He really was amazing. He didn't pry, but he really was interested in my life. He seemed like a true friend. "So, what 'bout the dad that watches you?" He asked. I laughed internally at that. 'The dad that watches me'. I had always simply thought of him as Yao, or just dad. "Well, the 'dad that watches me' is a caring person, I guess you could say... He's fun to be around, but it's kind of too much sometimes," I said, shaking my head a bit. That's what I had always thought, but did I still feel that way now?

Alfred looked at me imploringly. "Hmm... I'm sure he's not, you're just a private person," He said casually again, sipping his drink. He was already almost done. As much as those little things about my character annoyed me sometimes, I knew he was right, and I was never angry at them. "I think you're right," I said, with a little shrug.

Perceptiveness: Way of regarding, understanding, or interpreting something; a mental impression.  
Adjective  
Possible synonyms: Grasp, realization, awareness, recognition.  
Example: Alfred F. Jones.

"Of course I am, I always am!" He said with a laugh. Though I could not tell if he was being sarcastic or not, I laughed along. It felt nice, the soaring feeling in my chest. It was as if the birds in my stomach had finally taken flight. Yes, the _birds_. Like butterflies, but more severe. Yao would probably laugh at that. Oh, that's right, Yao....

"By the way, my dad really wants to meet you.." I said one colder day. It had been a month since my outing with him the first time, and to say the least, we had been going everywhere together since that day. Yao had smiled at this, and shook his head in a knowing manner. "I knew this would be good for you," He'd say, a smile plastered on his face.

He perked up immediately. "Really?! I've been wanting to meet him too! When can I meet him! I have time... Like, now?!" He said, looking at his watch in futility. I chuckled at this rather cute behavior. "Haha, sure. We can see him, Like, noow," I said, imitating him. "Hey!" He laughed, elbowing me playfully in the side.

I opened the door carefully, only peeking my head inside. "Dad," I whispered, motioning him over. He got up curiously, setting down the bowl of food. I shook my head at that. He ate when he had nothing else to do, yet he was still as thin as a stick and always hungry. Geez, was he still a fifteen year old boy?

"Um... my frie.... Alfred wanted to see you, so.." I opened the door to reveal him standing next to me, a friendly smile on his face. "Hello, sir! Nice to meet you!" He said, reaching over. A handshake. A handshake is what he wanted. Yao smiled and reached over. I could tell he was a bit embarrassed at having a guest over when he was in such casual clothes, but Alfred didn't seem to care. "My, what a strong grip!" Yao said, finally releasing his hand. I mentally face palmed as he next said, "You're such a tall young man!" I knew Alfred would just eat that right up. "Ahaha, thank you!" I knew he would've liked to comment on how short Yao was, but _thankfully_ , he knew better.

I was so relieved to see how well they were getting along, and I was so happy Yao did not give a "Thank you for being friends with my son", speech, at least, not with me around. He might do that on his own time later. And I was also relieved Alfred did not seem to care about the remaining unpacked boxes from our move. He seemed to adapt and react quickly, and that was one of the many things I admired about him. I really did hope we could stay together with him forever.

"You know, I did not want to move to Japan at first, but... I knew it was good for me, even if it didn't feel like it. So thank you Alfred, you were right. This has been a good experience." I said, looking down. I was truly thankful Alfred had reached out to me, and I knew no one else would have. But I didn't need Yao to say it for me; I had learned how to speak up for myself, another way I had grown. I genuinely smiled as I looked up to face my father and my best friend.

Fulfilled: Satisfied or happy because of fully developing one's abilities or character.  
Adjective  
Possible synonyms: Satisfied, contented, Happy.  
Example: Honda Kiku.

"Of course it's been good for you. I always keep telling you, I'm always right!" He started laughing at his own genius thinking, and at how amazing he knew he was. And along with his rambunctious laughing, Yao started cackling along side him, showing those beautiful smile lines of his.

My dog would have been proud of me.


End file.
